In dENIAL

And just like that, it’s already July. It’s hard to believe that I have almost two weeks left here in Romania. It felt like just yesterday I was moving into the dorm and now I am already packing up to move out.

With this truly incredible journey coming to an end, I am left with a plethora of emotions. The biggest: denial. I can’t imagine a life after Romania. I’ve been deeply engaged with this experience and reflecting on it ever since I first learned about it in September. I’m afraid that once I return home to the States, I might face an existential crisis. I’ve left my job, and my family has made significant sacrifices to allow me to pursue this journey. This should be a time of clarity and excitement, when I uncover the answers to the questions I’ve been carrying with me. Instead, I find myself overwhelmed by a sense of denial and looming dread. Who will I be when I get back home? I’ve come to appreciate the version of myself that’s emerged in this environment, and I’m uncertain how that will evolve once I return home.

There are several aspects of my life here that I am eager to carry back with me. One of the biggest changes has been my approach to transportation and my reliance on a vehicle. Living in Timişoara and traveling around, walking quickly became my preferred way to get around. It not only keeps me active but also gives me a chance to soak in the surroundings and connect more deeply with the places I visit.

Another important commitment I want to continue is learning languages, ideally becoming fluent in one or two. I’ll be honest, it was somewhat embarrassing to manage with just a handful of Romanian phrases, knowing that many of my peers are fluent in several languages. But every conversation, every phrase I struggled to remember, pushed me to try harder. I can’t imagine going back home and not hearing Romanian every day. The language has become a part of my daily rhythm here, and I want to keep that connection alive, whether through continued study or immersion in other languages.

It took a tremendous amount of effort to maintain this opportunity. I had to navigate a mountain of paperwork and ongoing processes, both before and during the experience all while managing classes, projects, and a social life. On top of that, I was adjusting to a new country and learning a new language. It was a lot to handle and it sometimes felt isolating, but now, I finally feel grounded and confident in my daily routine. How can I possibly leave behind what I have built for myself?

Many Erasmus alumni say the hardest part of the Erasmus journey is the end, and they’re right. You are not only leaving behind an incredible new place, but you are leaving behind community and deep relationships that took time to foster and grow. Those relationships will look differently for me now being half a world away. I will always put forth the effort to hold on to those people and relationships, but the uncertainty is troubling. People change, they grow, and life moves on. I know some relationships will fade, and that’s hard to accept, even if it’s inevitable. The truth is, going back to what I left behind feels just as scary, maybe even more so, than stepping into this experience did at the start. I know I still have some time left. There are still trips to take, things to do, and people to see but I am already missing Romania.